The door at the far end creaked softly as it eased open.
I drew my arms together in front of me, keeping my eyes fixed on the head of the long dining table. It was safer that way—professional, respectful.
Some clients preferred not to be looked at directly unless they invited it, and I wasn't about to risk making a wrong impression. Especially with the whole 'Confidential thing'.
Slow steps entered my line of sight. My gaze, still lowered toward the table's edge, caught a pair of slippers. Simple at first glance, but on him they somehow looked expensive.
Each step was unhurried, steady, almost too calm. For reasons I couldn't explain, the soundless weight of his approach made my skin prickle.
As he came closer, more of him came into view. A black robe, sleek and regal, shifted with each step. The fabric parted just enough to reveal the solid line of his chest… bare, warm-toned, distracting.
